Ending Happily
by Rianne
Summary: Poetry, sandstorms and desire. Based around the episode 'Ending Happy'. Good old fashioned GSR...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I am ready for the onslaught from CBS for borrowing their characters. I am going to disarm them with a big huge hug and a bucket full of romance… they know they would love that really!

**Author Notes: **Computer is back… it's working to a point… the CD drive does not work… my computer is either unaware of its existence, or sometimes it knows it's there, but it doesn't work… but I am loath to let the repair people take it away again. The rest of the thing now works, so that is A HUGE IMPROVEMENT! I just wish they hadn't messed with the CD as it worked perfectly before!! If anyone has any ideas? (Other than save up… you need a new computer!) I'd be grateful!!

Anyway. On to the more important stuff! I'm still working on my WIP… I am plodding along happily, but I was tempted to write this… and the rest is history! It's set during the season 7 episode 'Ending Happy'…. I'm filling in the gaps again!! And as per usual I started off aiming to be short, but it keeps evolving… So this is going to be a two parter…

Hope you enjoy!!

**Ending Happily.**

By Rianne.

The darkness rushed past the outside of the car.

Thousands and thousands of miles of shadowy desert stretching out on either side of the highway.

Sand and brush and sand and more sand, and the occasional flowering cactus, streaming past at some unknown but exhilarating speed.

In the day the landscape was bleached of its colour by the hot beating sun.

In the night, with no light to reflect off the tiny grains of sand, the seemingly endless expanse became black and eerie and infinite.

And now it was roaring past her through the passenger side window in a blur, palely lit by the passing beam of their SUV headlamps, which barely illuminated more than a few feet before them and meant it was hard work and took serious concentration to keep to the road.

And spreading out behind them in a trailing fog was a vast dust cloud from the motion of their passage, their very own sandstorm.

And nothing else.

They hadn't seen another vehicle since they had left Vegas City limits.

Nothing but endless space and staggering sky.

Making their usually looming vehicle into a tiny little joke on wheels.

Miles from anywhere.

Just she and Grissom.

Completely alone.

It was exciting.

There were tingles in her stomach, residual tingles that had been there all day, and newer tingles that the prospect of a road trip always brought on.

The taunt of adventure tickling her nerves with licks of anticipation at doing something different.

This was what she loved about her job, the thrill of the chase, even though the outcome of their journey would be the same as always.

There was still a 419 waiting at the end of the line.

It was still a human being who had suffered unnaturally, or inexplicably who lay in wait for them.

But there was a buzzing in her veins at being outside the city limits.

At being far away from the neon glow and the noise and chaos.

Outside the car the wind whipped by as they drove, cold and raw.

Battering the vehicle as it blasted its way through the fields of sand.

She found herself imaging what their little SUV looked like from the sky, roaring down the endless road.

As far from anywhere as you can get.

It was a heady reminder of her place in existence.

Of how easily they could get lost out here and never be found again.

But inside the car it was warm and cosy and safe, as Sara curled deeper into her winter jacket.

She had never dreamed of needing one when she had moved away from Boston and headed out to California and then Nevada.

Yet tonight she was very glad of it.

And she was even more pleased with her company this evening.

Grissom.

For appearances sake he didn't pair them together as much anymore.

He couldn't seem to favour her any more than any of the others, even with his time or his teaching.

So when she had slunk into the break room, deliciously delayed, only fifteen minutes before shift today, she had been expecting to be paired with Warrick or with Nick, or even Greg.

Fifteen minutes early for shift was like being hours late in Sara world.

Deliciously delayed…

She smiled out at the desert flying by her window.

Only two hours before her shift, when she would normally have been in the Lab already, or at least in the shower, or dressing for the day, or out running errands before the bank or the post offices shut, she had instead been curled up in bed in Grissom's arms.

Quite possibly content enough to never be tempted to move again.

Her head resting on his solid shoulder, enjoying the way she rose and fell gently with his breathing.

He had been asleep, he actually slept a lot more than he let on.

She still slept like it was an enforced punishment most nights, but the simple fact that she wasn't attempting to sleep alone these days had surprisingly made a difference to her sleeping habits.

She wandered less.

She didn't head out on midday eight-mile runs in the sweltering Vegas heat.

Or spend hours listening to her police scanner before rushing out at the first sign of a case that might require a CSI presence.

Now she had a reason to stay in bed.

Sometimes she just lay there and watched him sleep.

He would probably think she was crazy if he knew that, but she loved it.

She loved just lying there with him, enjoying the weight of his arms around her, the way he sometimes stirred in his sleep, murmuring her name, nuzzling into her, before settling again.

That afternoon she had been reading, comfortably resting, the book of poetry he had recently gifted her with had been in her hand, the romantic and beautiful words flowing through her mind.

The little book, old, quite possibly antique, smelt like knowledge, bound in dark soft leather, a first edition, gilt edges to the pages, little hearts and flowers embossing every numbered page.

The nicest thing anyone had ever given her and he hadn't even given it to commemorate anything. She had just come home to find the little hand wrapped parcel on the kitchen side.

A little mystery all for her, in pale blue paper sprinkled with clouds, with a small rectangular card with her name scrawled across it.

He had been sat on the couch, just across the room, for all intent and purpose reading, his nose buried in a newspaper, but she had felt his gaze on her.

Flitting her attention questioningly towards him she had seen his eyes dart away, had seen him hide his smirk behind the black and white paper.

Shy about this?

Shy about the giving?

Shy about the sentiment?

It didn't matter.

She had already been blushing with pleasure.

The wrapper had been loud as she had eased it open.

She wanted to be careful, to preserve this moment and all its unexpected possibility.

A part of her longing to be able to scurry away from his gentle, but watchful gaze and open the parcel somewhere private where she could squeal to her hearts content about what ever token lay beneath the wispy clouds.

It was already clear from the shape and the size and the weight that it was a book.

That part was no surprise. He had given her books before.

Always encouraging her in her irrepressible thirst for knowledge.

He had loaned her books, and even one Christmas a few years back had given her an entomology textbook as a present and she had treasured that learning tool as if it had been the most important volume in her bookshelf, which considering her and her love of books was high praise indeed.

It had only been later, when Nick had embarrassed her in front of Hodges by pointing out to her that he had never received a Christmas gift from Grissom, that she had realised that the book might have been more than just a quick thoughtless present from a boss to an employee.

It had been in that very moment that she had realised just how much she shouldn't have opened her mouth about it and also from that moment she had almost given herself an ulcer trying to figure out retrospectively what motive had lain behind his giving just _her_ something.

But things were very different now.

She had no need to feel insecure about anything between them anymore.

They were together; and they had been together for over a year.

Yeah, there had been shaky patches, the biggest surrounding his recent unannounced, and undiscussed departure to teach in Boston.

But that had been smoothed over.

He had returned a lighter man, a man more comfortable with his emotions and he had made her feel treasured and loved ever since.

Had soothed her through her fears that she wasn't enough, that she hadn't been able to help him when she saw him suffering.

And recently the house that they had moved into just before he had disappeared had warmed and become a real haven to her.

Their own place together.

Her very own home.

They had a real kitchen, and sitting room, a bathroom bigger than her entire dorm room at Harvard, and a huge bed to share.

They had an office with shelf after shelf of books.

They even had pictures, framed personal photographs.

And even more importantly, they had a dog.

A beautiful loyal creature who liked her, and who adored Grissom.

They had chosen the boxer for his sad eyes and his almost desperate gaze, which had found in them a kindred feeling.

A lonely and deserving soul.

Listed for possible destruction if a home for him could not be found, considered too old to be adopted, too big, but for them he had been perfect.

She had found herself a little family.

She couldn't ask for more.

And lately she had been lazily luxuriating in it.

Sleeping in, or at least lazing in.

Cleaning the house and feeling all domestic, which was not a role she had ever envisioned herself delighting in.

She had previously cleaned for sanitary purposes, but she had certainly found pleasure in sharing everyday household tasks with Grissom, and the day that they had painted their new bedroom was certainly a very sweet and intimate memory she hoped to never forget.

And so these days, she found herself, not only comfortable to be away from work, but happy to be.

She could always find something else to be getting on with, whereas previously thoughts of work had occupied her every breathing moment.

She had definitely found her diversion.

But she did miss spending time with him at work.

She understood it, but that certainly didn't mean she had to like this new arrangement.

That was why she was surprised that he had paired them together tonight.

She turned away from the world outside her window to study the world that reigned inside the comfortable cabin of their SUV.

He was focusing his attention to the road, his expression very serious.

His forehead creased a little as he strained to see through the sand blasting across the windshield.

She didn't envy him the task of driver tonight.

She took the time to study him some.

Appreciating the little seemingly insignificant things she knew about him.

Remembering the stroke of his lips as he kissed her skin.

Recalling the smile in his eyes as he had brought her to tears with the words he had written in the little poetry volume.

On the outside it was a modest book of romantic poetry.

That somehow housed more feeling in the world between its pages than a thousand modern fictions or movies.

An item with such care taken in its making, with such depth to its contents, disguised by such an unassuming cover.

Just like the gift giver.

An endless surprise, with so much going on beneath the surface.

That book.

It had been very intimately inscribed.

"_These words are what my heart longs to say to yours."_

Words which caught her breath even now.

Which had meant she had devoured that little volume word for word, cover to cover over and over.

It still made her smile.

Still made her heartbeat stumble.

She had stowed it under her pillow, so that she could keep it close, draw it out during the quiet hours, as she had that morning, so that she could snuggle closer to his sleeping form to read and reflect and smile.

The once lonely late afternoon hours now filled to the brim.

Their bed now filled with daydreams.

As she would idly imagine him thinking of her as he read these words.

Imagine him reading them to her with his emotions buoying his soothing voice.

Knowing that he would be unable to look at her as he read, knowing how sweet it was that he always struggled to show how he felt, yet he tried anyway.

Shy and nervous, in a way which jumbled her insides.

Still afraid at times that he wasn't enough for her.

When he was everything she had ever wanted and even more.

What more could a woman want than to be stretched out gloriously bare beside the man she loved.

It always amused her how shy he was about his body, they could loose clothes at a rapid rate of knots, but once he had tumbled her into slumber, she more often than not awoke some time later refreshed and smiling to find him fast asleep, fully dressed once more in pyjama pants and a t-shirt.

And yet for all that, one of his favourite things was to wander around their home fully clothed, but barefoot, even on the stone tiles!

She had never mentioned it to him, but it tickled her.

It amused her to see his bare toes poking out of his trousers, or displayed for all to see on their coffee table. That she had mentioned. NO feet on the furniture in her house.

She had always imagined herself to be shy about her body too, but recently she had discovered the joys to be found in lounging nude and sensual in his arms.

She liked to lie beside him as he read, or watched TV, stretched out on her stomach, the bed sheets only just high enough to skim her lower back.

She'd read, turning the pages with the utmost attention to the words, whilst she felt the heat of his gaze trace the dip of her back, her shoulders, the curving sides of her half concealed breasts.

She loved the attention he lavished to her bared skin.

With his eyes, feeling the goose bumps rise and her nipples peak.

And tempted like that it was never long before his lips replaced his gaze.

Gliding over her, warming even more intimately.

Joined too by his touch.

By the very light breeze of his fingertips.

Teasing and ticklish, making her squirm.

Yes, there was definitely something pleasurable about relaxing bare.

It made her feel powerful and more aware of her femininity, especially as she moved against him, or against the sheets on their bed.

The one thing he had insisted on when they bought his home together – expensive, high thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.

She always felt like the Queen of Sheba as she sprawled.

And she had this morning.

But he had slept on. Just coming off a double shift.

It was good for him to sleep. Necessary.

Yet now it meant that it was her unhappy job to wake him up.

But watching him snooze, looking so content and relaxed she had allowed him another five minutes.

And then another.

But with only an hour and a half left before shift she had decided that she was going to have to wake him.

She had sighed softly, easing closer, reaching out to stroke her fingers over his brow.

Still swept up in sleep his features twitched in reaction to her caress, but settled again.

So she kissed him.

Trailing her lips over his cheeks, over his closed eyelids, and flickering lashes, teasing him awake, nuzzling his ears.

Whispering snippets from the now memorized poems.

Words of love and affection and desire.

Words returned from her heart to his.

Then she had found herself gasping and giggling as he stirred beneath her, instinctively encircling her in his arms and tightening his hold as he had nuzzled back, returning her affections.

And those pyjamas of his had been thrown from the bed with abandon.

They had only just made it to work in time.

They had skulked into the Lab as quietly as they could.

She had headed to the break room, whilst he had taken a detour via his office.

She had found everyone sat together around the table, awaiting assignments.

A minute later, as the others were greeting her, she had seen Gil slide into the room out of the corner of her eye.

He had been studiously ignoring her, which she knew meant nothing, but on her low days could twinge.

Luckily today her sated body and mind was already happily jet lagging by a good hour, had you asked her where she was right now, she would have most likely told you she was right back in bed doing wicked things to the man she loved!

Grissom had then given the assignments out with a quirky smile.

Oblivious to the others questioning glances.

He had been handed a cup of Greg's Blue Hawaiian upon entering the break room.

That was enough to put a smile on anyone's face.

Maybe that was why he was smiling.

Yet Grissom's happy was a contagious kind of happy.

Around the table, one by one, they all found smiles creeping up on them.

It was that excitable happy that Grissom occasionally got when he had the chance to try out some off the wall experiment.

That could mean anything was ahead of them tonight.

She had watched him from her chair, noticing all the little things about him that were different lately.

The relaxed smile wasn't the only new addition to the Gil Grissom that stood before her.

He had taken up a relaxed position in his seat.

The way he lounged taunted her to stroke her eyes over the slouch of him.

And only she knew that he was lazy sated, not lazy bored, or lazy tired.

At least that was why she hoped he was all smiley.

Why there was a crinkle around his blue eyes.

Damn, she knew she should be more confident than this, an hour ago she would have been sure, but this double life of hers was so divided.

When she stepped over the threshold into the realm of work, she had always been as adamant as he was about keeping their more intimate foray private and away from the Lab.

But sometimes she wished that he would just send her some sign when they were at work and surrounded by the others to prove that the man across the room from her was the very same man who had been in intimate rhythmic stroke with her less than an hour ago.

But there was no such forthcoming connection, she just had to trust herself and trust him.

He did look happy though, even the way he was calmly listening to Greg's usual cheeky joke as the younger CSI's gathered his most likely overdue paperwork, yellow assignment slip already curling in fist, was a delight to watch.

Catherine and Warrick were on Lab duties today, keeping them out of the field.

Nick and Greg were to head out to Grissom's case later after they had finished up on their current case.

Yet Grissom had still sat there, across the table from her, just calmly smiling, sipping his coffee.

And she had been left still waiting for her assignment.

And then had come a surprise.

What may have been the little reach out that she had been longing for.

Finally he had finished up by announcing, " And, Sara, you're with me."

And then she'd been told something vague involving the words, Binky's Cat House and Bryant County.

Yet those first five words had lingered, had made her hide her smile.

He had been smiling back at her.

He had even raised his eyebrows gamefully as he had downed the last sips of his coffee.

Swallowing it with a pleasure sigh, not breaking his gaze with hers, and in his eyes she had felt nude and tangled in their luxurious bed sheets in his arms again.

Could have almost envision before them, on the now empty break room table, a miniature version of them, arching and dizzy, drunk on pleasure, giddy on memories, writhing madly and unashamedly.

And if she read the way he was sweeping her, tips of her toes to the top of her head, slowly, savouringly, in a way that made her skin tingle and come alive, correctly, his thoughts were pretty similar.

They were getting dangerously close here.

Dangerously close to exposing themselves.

Without doing anything or saying anything at all.

Not enough affection and then way too much attention.

One extreme to the other within the blink of an eye.

All those smiles and happy sighs, they didn't even find themselves arguing over cases any more.

Sometimes they found it surprisingly easy to keep their distance, distracted by interesting cases and puzzles, but after morning wake-up's like the one they had just enjoyed it was extremely hard to hide their smugness.

It would have taken more strength than either possessed.

And why should they hide, why should they have to hide the fact that being with one another made them feel happy.

Oh, yeah, the rules, the Lab, their oblivious friends…

And if they didn't learn to bite down their smiles, it wouldn't be long before their extremely observant colleagues twigged.

But as they had sat there at that break room table only vaguely aware of the others leaving the room, leaving them behind, having some sort of joined surge of memory, it was so much harder to resist, too hard to break away.

They weren't known for being happy.

Which was a sad fact to hear.

And so to keep their newfound precious private time theirs and theirs alone, they had to be careful, as the rest of them were far too damn suspicious.

But she was fast becoming too happy to care!

She was working with him tonight!

And felt positively gleeful about it.

There had certainly been a long stretch in the last few years where those words, 'Sara, you're with me,' had never fallen from his lips and she had found herself every night longing to hear them from him to no avail.

So the prospect of working with him tonight was one of great pleasure.

It had taken another few moments to shatter their longing concentration and a sharp crash as Greg's haphazardly stacked case reports had avalanched free, tumbling to the floor as he had tried to turn sideways to navigate himself through the doorway.

And, so here she now was, passenger in a speeding car, careering through the desert on her way to a 419, with poems and pleasant memories rippling echoes through her brain.

And music.

Grissom's car. Grissom the driver. His CD. No discussion.

So around her the waving wafts of some classical strains that she couldn't name wavered.

Lulled and lingered.

There was no one else that she would rather be trapped alone with in the middle of nowhere than him!

But outside the car the desert wind was causing Gil to lean further forward, to almost press his forehead against the windshield glass as he hunched over the steering wheel.

He didn't look like he was having the night of his life.

"Gil," Her voice sounded small against the power of the elements.

She could have sworn she heard him grunt, but he didn't make any motion of replying.

His eyes thankfully didn't leave the road.

She leant toward him, her palm coming down gently on his knee, so as not to scare him.

"Let me drive for a bit." She offered, lightly squeezing his leg.

She certainly didn't miss the shake of his head.

She chose not to press him.

Quite wise.

"Then stop for a while," her attention was flitting between the road and her driver. "The DB isn't going anywhere."

She had softened her tone, kept it light.

But his frown was increasing.

"We don't want to get drifted in." he replied. Curt and sharper than maybe he should have, his Grissom supervisor head on his very heavy shoulders.

"We won't."

No response.

"I promise to dig you out," she coaxed with a smile.

He sighed, then she felt the car begin to slow.

Eventually pulling sideways off the road and to a stop.

He left the high beam lights on.

Reaching up to flick the SUV's inside cabin light on too.

Despite the headlamps glare she still blinked rapidly at the new closer glow.

"Hey," she whispered, grinning goofily at the way she must look literally like a started creature on the highway, before she reached up herself and shut off the inner light, plunging them back into intimate darkness.

He sighed again, rubbing his hand over his eyes and forehead, but he couldn't hide the quick flash of a smile in his eyes, as he was slowly lowering himself back to relax against his seat, and she swore she heard his back creak as he straightened it out.

Getting old. A touchy subject.

So she just sat quiet, listening to the louder sound of the desert surrounding them.

Listening to it create an odd kind of harmony with the rippling music gliding form the CD player, making her eardrums tingle.

With a faint snick she released her seat belt, rolling her shoulders.

That giddy feeling was filling her belly again, joining the warm glowing memories laced with the ghosts of recent pleasure.

He had closed his eyes, the giddy Gil from the break room earlier having been beaten quiet by the powerful wind.

His fingers were tensing and relaxing against his jeans. Flexing repeatedly.

Something was rising in the confined space they shared.

He looked so serious.

Before she had thought about it she had leant over the gap between the seats and pressed a quick kiss to his jaw.

The skin smooth, and beard free, beneath her lips.

She missed the beard.

But the jaw muscle was tense and firm, strong beneath the surface.

She breathed him in deep.

And before he had even had a chance to open his eyes she was back in her seat.

Hiding her grin.

But he was the one with the surprise.

Just as she turned back, to check if he had even noticed she had touched him, she found herself plundered.

His mouth hot and open and fast over hers.

Capturing her mouth mid gasp.

His fingers delving into her hair to drag her closer as his tongue swept hers hungrily.

The music and storm surrounding them rising to a tremendous crescendo of sound and desire.

**_To Be Continued_…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** If they were mine I wouldn't have to save up for a new computer, I'd be able to go to one of those gift lounges all the famous people go to and get a top of the line one for free! I wanna be famous!!

**Author Notes:**A huge shout out and Thank you to all my reviewers, and readers for all their comments, alerts and emails. A mention goes out to my Elusive Reader **TG** who reviews anon – Thank you, and a big Thank You also goes to **Moochiecat** for her suggestions on ways to help me battle with my computer!

Please forgive the incredible lateness in updating this - I lost my entire first draft in an unfortunate incident involving my clumsiness and my pen drive. (I snapped it out of my computer… it's now in four pieces.) Please send me some good computer karma… I'm getting desperate!

A quick WARNING – I've bumped this fic up to an M due to my dirty mind and several requests and suggestions along the same lines! I shall mention no names!

Oh and what I said last chapter about this being a two-parter… scratch that – it's looking more like three! (And I may even manage to mention actual events from Ending Happy in that part!)

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Ending Happily.**

By Rianne.

_Part Two._

Sara couldn't be sure, but she may well have felt the car drop out beneath her and then get swept up in an updraft and spiral upwards toward the sky as Gil's lips captured hers.

The way he startled her senses.

Was so unexpected.

Snatched the breath from her.

Made the world spin.

His hands were hot on her, tight and fast, clutching and possessive, their heat sinking into her scalp and into her throat, covering her ears, which was intensifying the external and internal sounds.

Her heart roared as loud as the music and the sandstorm.

Her whole body was glowing with warmth.

Like there was a liquid heat flowing right into her.

Pouring from his mouth right into hers.

Spreading out, roaring through every vein, alighting every nerve ending.

Feverish and powerful.

And she was drowning in it.

Swept away.

She blinked open her eyes, trying to find where he had lost his grip on reality, but he was just a barely lit blur before her.

Warm and familiar and yet shadowed and strange.

It was too dark and he was too close.

And she was so light headed what she did see swam.

But his kiss was too damn good for her to care.

He was sucking hard on her lips and grazing her tongue.

Nipping the skin between his teeth, making desire throb.

He was rough and frantic.

There was none of his usual gentle tender exploration.

She wasn't sure who this man was or where he had come from beneath the calm scientist she knew, but she didn't want him to stop.

He was tightening his hold in her hair.

Purpose in his onslaught.

Dragging her impossibly closer.

Like a starving man.

His tongue duelling with hers.

Dragging forcefully against her tongue, her lips, and the sensitive roof of her mouth, swiping and stirring and stroking, spreading frissons of pleasure.

Which melted into shivers down her spine.

Pooling heat.

And his desire was spurring her on.

Her body was feeding off his passion and hunger and drive.

That tingling feeling in her belly becoming a lustful roar of wanting.

A sand cyclone of desire spiralling up inside her.

An all-consuming white-hot heat.

She had only very rarely seen him like this.

Like he was angry, demanding and powerful.

And only once in a sexual way.

Something had come over them that night and it seemed to be taking hold right now too.

The darkness surrounding them both freeing and cloaking.

The perfect concealment under which she could let her desires out to play.

She must be possessed.

Possessed by the desert wind.

The Devil wind.

And she clasped to that theory tight with both hands, as she suddenly lunged back at him.

Her own fingers sinking tight into his curls as she hauled herself across the car and launched herself into his lap without breaking their lips.

Beneath her mouth she vaguely felt him stiffen and heard him try and speak her name, but there was no stopping her and their lips never parted to allow his sound free.

Her scramble was an awkward tangle of limbs and there was a faint thump as the back of his head bounced off the headrest, but somehow she made it.

Found herself pressed in tight between the heat of his belly and something else that was definitely aware of her presence.

She could feel the pressure of the curved steering wheel pressing into her lower back.

Standing. At. Attention.

Pinned and squirming.

And then lurching forwards, feeling like she was falling before bouncing to a stop almost parallel to the ground, her body still flush against his.

Feeling like her fingernails just lost their tenuous grip on reality and control.

Feeling like her mind was on some lust fogged time delay.

It took her lust addled brain a moment or two to process the fact that he had somehow released the recline on the seat and that was why she was now writhing more comfortably astride him.

The only other thought in her head that was not possessed by her arousal was that she was extremely glad this car was an SUV and not a compact.

But that had barely registered when she felt his hands start to slide.

Gliding easily over the waterproof slick of her jacket and then sliding lower, teasing underneath, finding the bare expanse of skin above her jeans, where her t-shirt had risen and laying claim to it.

The rough pads of his fingers tickling and scratching over her newly exposed skin.

She heard herself make a noise of pleasure in response, the sound escaping from her nose on a ragged expel of breath, as their lips still refused to part.

His strokes moved in a blur, tickling the curve of her lower back and surging higher, as hungry and intense as his ravenous lips.

She felt like she was being thoroughly devoured and offered herself up as a willingly feast.

This time she was the one to gasp out in surprise as his fingers slid into the seat of her jeans.

Trapped in tight between rough denim, and yielding flesh.

God, she loved his hands on her.

She hummed happily against his lips at the sensation of his huge palms cupping the curves of her behind, urging her body closer to his own straining flesh.

He wasn't slowing his onslaught, hungry and powerful and definitely all man.

Yet, as she writhed above and astride him, she definitely felt like the one held that precious control.

And she loved it.

The temperature around had them sky rocketed, feeling close to a hundred degrees.

His heat and hers combining, the scent of arousal ebbing from them, increasing the hunger and want.

His lips were burning too, as his mouth devoured. Moving over her face and throat as his fingers spread fire over her skin.

His tongue sliding out to stroke too, trailing sizzling flames over her nerve endings.

His breath blasting against the moistened skin as it escaped him like hot dry pants of desert wind.

Chilling and raising goosebumps to dance across her flesh.

Then he captured her lips again, his press hard and filled with strength, in contrast to the malleable, pliant and soft skin of his lips.

She drank him in, tasting coffee, lust and desire.

She sucked hard on his lower lip, nipping it sharply between her teeth, before soothing it with a wet stroke of her tongue.

The sensation eliciting a throb from between his thighs that only drove her further towards the edge.

Then the world was spinning out around her as he slid his exploring palm around to the front, and with obscenely confident fingers, flicked open the front catch on her jeans.

It was only when she felt the draft of cooler air against her thighs that she realised that even though it had been him undoing her jeans, she was definitely the one that was fighting out of them and kicking them away into the passenger side foot well, with her underwear tangled up inside.

She hovered on unsteady legs, her lower half bare, millimetres above him, feeling powerful, her mouth still duelling as passionately and with as much abandon as his.

Loving the illicit thrill of being so intimately bare when he was fully clothed beneath her.

The feel of the intense heat rising from his thighs, and ebbing even more so from her own bare skin, was almost scalding.

She literally ached, longing and growing desperate.

But she was teasing herself too, making herself wait, swaying just above him, her hips rocking in anticipation of what was definitely to come.

Gasping as his hands came back down against her flesh.

Beginning to move again, to explore, bold through the darkness.

Causing her to suck in her breath as he eased lower and lightly stroked through her sensual sleek heat.

Her hips rocked hard, chasing his elusive touch.

Unabashedly seeking, far too aroused to care.

Feeling the material of his trousers tickle against the sensitive underside of her thighs as she writhed, brushing behind her knees as she rocked suggestively and freely over him, mimicking the motion of their tongues and acting on the instinctive pull of desire.

No thought left to be given up to remembering where they were and where they were supposed to be going.

They were blissfully living in the moment.

The sound of his zip almost stopped her heart.

The growl of metal against metal was gloriously arousing.

And then both moaned too, finally breaking their kiss as bare now too he pressed himself to her.

Rocking slowly, she could feel her heat soaking the very tip of him.

And then with a hungry and unrestrained growl escaping the both of them he plunged into her.

Their gaze met.

The world around them slowing as they swayed right at that moment of first contact.

Hovering there so she felt every moment tick by.

Making it last.

Lost completely in what was so nakedly displayed to the other.

Right there in their eyes.

Then as she took a shuddering breath her weight shifted over him and another groan swirled out.

His body easing its way, the pressure a sharper sweet.

Skin to skin intimacy was a new development for them.

New and so much more powerful and pleasurable.

Every sensation magnified.

Intense, slick and concentrated.

Base and raw.

Explicit like she had never known.

And the temptation of what she knew was to come such a wanton devilish pull that she could stay still no longer.

With her head lolling back on her shoulders she drew breath, to steady her world and then she began to move.

Instinct leading the way.

Every slightly deeper stroke twisting up through her in all its pleasure pain intensity.

And as their motion built their surroundings blurred.

The speed of sound creeping back upon them as everything swirled again.

His hot fingers in continuous exploring motion sliding up under the front of her lilac t-shirt, and the sight of the twin bulges of his open palms under her already padded jacket would normally have brought laughter.

Yet at this very moment in time all she could think of was the twin sensations of his touch as he pinched and massaged her sensitive nipples sending shooting pleasure straight to where she desperately met his aching and fevered thrusts.

She lowered her head, searching out the sensitive and vulnerable spot he loved along the line of his polo collar, and sucked hard.

Marking him.

Tilting up to bite his earlobe, feeling him shudder as she growled into the shell.

Her body was clenching already. Already close.

Rhythm hot and thunderous.

She felt like she was trapped in an hour glass as the sands of seduction poured all around her, caressing every pore of her skin with pleasure, as time ticked away, coaxing her toward that moment of bliss which hovered temptingly on the horizon.

He was sweating under all the layers of clothing.

Beads sliding from his hairline, her lips coming away from his skin tainted with the tang of salt.

She could feel the muscles in his thighs tightening and relaxing with each heart beat arch beneath her.

And she loved the animal feel of him.

The way he clutched and reached for her as if she was the only thing he wanted in the whole wide world.

And his groans…

Mixed in with her own moans and growls, which were escaping her throat, flowing out into the surrounding air without thought…

God, that private symphony was enough to push anyone over.

Hot and wild, vaguely familiar, but intensified, never before contained in such a small space.

Echoing and heightening the experience.

Taunting her to grind her pelvis more intently to his.

To stimulate herself against the crisp scratch of his hair.

Her clit beating as fast as her heart.

Waves of sensation sweet and sharp.

Focused in her lower belly, but spreading out.

The sound of their bodies meeting growing louder as their ardour and eagerness grew to unbelievable uncontrollable levels.

Her was chest heaving.

Her body slamming back down to his.

Faster and faster, over and over.

It had only been moments ago that this all started and she was nearly there already.

Hell, she had been ready back in the break room when he'd told her she was with him tonight!

And this may or may not have been what he had in mind when he had spoken those fateful words!

But she really right now couldn't have cared less about work Grissom's intentions.

This was a different man, her private Gil Grissom.

Through the darkness his eyes were wide.

Drinking in her every expression with unbreakable concentration.

Waiting for her to fall.

Desperate for her to fall so that he could fall too.

A gentleman and a masochist.

His lip caught hard between his teeth.

Grinding with every thrust.

Grunting.

But he need not have worried.

She was there.

The explosion flaring up through her.

Thundering and hot and sweeping her away.

Aching body pulling him deeper.

Her nails scrabbling for purchase against his slick Forensics jacket.

Shudders flooding through her as her insides danced along the rhythm of her heart.

And then he howled.

A sound unlike she had ever heard from him before.

She gasped wildly stunned at how raw he sounded.

It echoed.

His unrestrained response.

Rumbling back at her, reverberating off the interior of the car.

Coiling around them as they tumbled.

His body surging up, lifting hers with it.

His hold about her tightening as she felt the heat pouring again from him into her.

Flooding, boiling, and real.

The sound from him dying slowly as she fell forward again.

Slumping against his still straining chest.

Loving how even as mindless as they both were right then, that he brought her instinctively closer, curled his arms around her and held her tight.

She lay cradled against his chest, breath still ragged and heartbeat still quick.

Brain and body still buzzing.

And then she noticed.

The sound.

The sand.

The desert was quiet.

With one weak limb, she reached out and swiped her palm against the fogged window, the cool liquid condensation blissful against her skin.

Beyond the glass the desert was now dark and still.

The once frantic roar now as sated as she.

She huffed a little, in wordless surprise.

The CD in the dash had stopped too.

Had reached the end of its musical rotation.

And the radio station that had replaced it was a low mostly muted vein of static, unable to get reception so far out in the middle of wherever they were.

The muffled sound was lulling, drawing her into sleep just as temptingly as the wave of endorphins in her veins and love in her heart.

"Sara," his voice was still rough with ebbing desire.

"Honey," he sighed making her new pillow fall and then rise again. "We, we…er…"

Yeah, it was good to hear she wasn't the only one.

Even her blinking was slow, but with his help she was able to ease herself back into the passenger side.

Tumbling there into the safety of the bucket seat with another sigh.

Her whole body lazy and sated and smug.

When he offered her a Kleenex she just looked at him.

Another few blissed out seconds passed and then the cold draft of fresher air against her bare lower body began to edge into her day-dreamy disposition.

Reminding her that she was half naked and more than a little sticky.

And eventually she regained control over her limbs again.

But they couldn't help but sneak each other warm and loaded glances as they righted themselves.

Tugging clothing back into place, brushing hair back from their faces, realigning the driver's seat, refastening their seatbelts.

Then they both sat and took a moment, staring beyond the windshield out into the endless and now quiet desert.

"Did we just…" His words faded out.

Just do that in a car…?

Do that whilst on duty…?

Do it on our way to a murder scene…?

As he spoke he let his gaze flit to hers again.

His eyes were bright again, cheeky, the dazed look had fled to be replaced by a wonderful happy glow that she was quite sure he could see reflected back from her as well.

Incredulous, but happy.

"Well, that was definitely one off the list." He threw out far too casually, looking away as her eyes grew wide.

"Or maybe two…" he continued to muse.

She licked her lips, not wanting to be pulled in by his mysterious statement, but far too curious a personality to resist it.

"What list?" Her voice sounded both dreamy and rough.

He chuckled beside her.

Shaking his head.

He knew full well that she could easily imagine what kind of list he had in mind.

And if his mind was anything like hers…

D.I.R.T.Y sprang up.

It was quite the list; he had certainly had enough years of frustration in which to imagine every possible scene and fantasy.

And she was one very lucky woman if any of the others he had envisaged turned out to be even remotely as good as this one!

Beside her he chuckled again, clearly reliving the last few minutes over again in disbelief, before he tilted his face in her direction again.

His body language changing as he tried desperately to control his features.

To speak what he obviously felt he had to say with a modicum of dignity and at least an attempt at a straight face.

"You know, we could be anywhere right now." He announced.

Her forehead creased in confusion.

"I couldn't get you looking at me like you did in the break room out of my head. The minute you looked at me my concentration was shot to hell."

She tried to protest, but he cut her off.

"I'm serious! I have no idea where we are right now, it was all I could do to just drive in a straight line!"

She eyed him up.

Then her attention fell onto the centre of the dash, where the little GPS unit glowed.

"Gris!" She huffed out, shoving his shoulder as forcefully as her sated body could manage, "The GPS is on, you knew exactly where you were going."

He winked at her, before he pouted.

She returned the expression, pursing her lips into a blown kiss.

She did appreciate the compliment, but she still felt uncomfortable acknowledging his little coded snippets of adoration and love.

"It's okay to be distracted sometimes," she whispered. "It means we finally got ourselves a life!"

He sighed.

"Okay," she submitted. "I'll stop looking lingeringly at you over the break room table!" she fawned like a romance novel heroine.

"And I'll stop jumping you in cars in the middle of the desert." He said the words but the conviction behind them was noticeably missing.

"Don't you dare!" She parried wickedly, laughter in her voice.

Which rippled out to a stop as he leant over and cupped her cheek, dipping to press a very different, very loving and light kiss to her still swollen lips.

"Deal?"

"Deal."

He started the engine, the beast beneath them roaring to life.

He pressed the accelerator, revved the engine.

And nothing happened.

His brow creased.

He looked down at the dashboard.

He looked up again.

He revved again, the sound loud.

Again nothing.

She could literally feel her face fall.

"Gil?" his name sounded tentative.

He said nothing, merely increased the gas again.

He wasn't serious.

He was messing around.

They weren't stuck, they couldn't be stuck.

They weren't sand-drifted in.

He was playing her.

Right…?

Right?

Beneath her the beast shuddered again.

The inside of the car had filled with a horrified quiet.

She raised her face to his, knowing her eyes were wide and he would definitely be able to see her fears written there clearly as if in Sharpie.

He was still frowning, but other than that motionless.

And then with a tremendous roar and a wheel spin any street racer would have been proud of he was roaring from nothing to sixty, tearing away from scene of their very own special crime, and thundering away at breakneck speed through the desert again.

Thrown back in her seat by the power of the engine she was stunned for a second, before she too roared, pouring crazed laughter out into the air, threaded all through with her sense of relief, and disbelief at being fooled by him.

And her laughter was joined by his delighted sound too, the music of it tangling intimately with hers, trailing out behind them in their wake and rippling out into the endless sand filled space.

Their happiness overflowing.

To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Plot from this finally comes from the actual episode Ending Happy! Hooray! You might recognise a few spoken lines! Couple of 'bad' words thrown in there too!

Author Notes: Hi All! I'm guessing people never expected this story to ever continue – but I had always planned to! I hope it's not too annoying to have to re-read chapters one and two to remember what happened! It has been so long that when I logged into this site I had no idea what to do it all looked so different!

Ending Happily

By Rianne.

**Chapter Three.**

The Sherriff was waiting for them.

She climbed down from the SUV, instinctively checking her clothes and her hair were in place even though she knew they were.

But he caught her, throwing her a cheeky wink as he moved around the car to meet the waiting man.

Bastard, she thought, flaring her eyes at him, managing to bite down her grin.

She exhaled, her breath appearing in the atmosphere around her.

The air now held a sharper desert chill, the blue light making her feel colder, she was glad of her thermal jacket now.

The hum in her body still continued to reverberate.

Keeping rhythm with her footfalls as she trailed Grissom and the local sheriff down the ill lit Grecian statue lined trail through the murky desert night towards the lighted encampment beyond.

The faint giddiness threatening to rise up again at the utter thrill of knowing that she had been bad and had loved it.

Come on, time for CSI Sidle to return.

But for that she just couldn't seem to summon the enthusiasm.

She shook herself, realising that she was barely listening to their conversation.

Merely following the figures before her, only periodically brought back to the present by the occasional bounce of her metal kit against her jean clad thigh.

Hopefully it wasn't anything important, or something she would need to be aware of later.

Her brain was still delighting in the flood of endorphins shimmering through her veins.

Her whole body nice and relaxed.

Her free hand tucked for warmth into her pocket, fingers fidgeting with residual motion as her mind wandered.

God, sex with Gil was great.

And a new experience every time these days, their behaviour more gleefully abandoned, and she now had evidence that free from the restraints of the four corners of their bed... sex with Grissom was even better!

Her mouth was set into a smirk so saucy even the prospect of dead bodies couldn't diminish her high.

Another metallic bump against her thigh reminded her of the need to concentrate.

What did she know so far...

Dead body, that the Sherriff's name had been something French...

Shit.

Focus woman.

She sped up her pace, straining to catch up on the conversation.

The Sherriff was still talking in his broad twang, answering Grissom's query about a coroner, with "Oh, couldn't get him on the horn. Probably out in some barn, up to his elbows in a cow's vagina."

Whoah? What?

She slowed, complete with another bounce of metal against her thigh.

"Excuse me?"

But the Sherriff didn't even flinch, or even turn in her direction, continuing to explain that the Coroner out here was also a Veterinarian.

Right...

So carrying on along the dirt path she took her radio off her belt and called in for some extra help.

It sounded like they were going to need it.

Ahead a small crowd had gathered, the Sherriff's Deputy and an eclectic mix of older retired folk and much younger women in underwear, robes and other slight and weather inappropriate clothing.

Scantily clad women aside, not the crowd you would expect at a Cathouse in the middle of the night.

And Grissom agreed it seemed, as he spoke her exact thoughts aloud as the Sherriff talked his way through the assembled.

An older man in a pale bed robe anxiously stuttered, "Di-Did you hear about my wife? Somebody shot my wife. Yeah, I'm telling ya, they shot my wife."

His tired eyes were darting, his thin aged hands quivering, and there was something lost and confused about his ramblings. His appearance made all the more haggard by the red and blue neon of the sign drawing highlights to his crinkled skin.

But the Sherriff took no heed of his words, dismissing him instead by calmly patting the elderly gentleman on the shoulder as he placated, right at the border of patronising with, "Yeah. Okay. All right. Settle down, Milton. Settle down. Okay."

They moved past, through more of the curious little crowd, the Sherriff explaining that Milton's wife had died some ten years past.

This place made very little sense to her right now, okay, she could imagine older Gentlemen enjoying the company of the women on offer in a place like this, and it was legal in Nevada, but not to be judgemental, or naive, but she couldn't figure what the elderly ladies with their blue rinse perms and flannelette embroidered nightgowns were doing here.

God, she hoped it wasn't some kind of exotic Geriatric bus tour. She had seen too much in her years as a CSI to underestimate any option.

Maybe that was why they were out here, maybe the 419 dead human body was some old guy who couldn't handle...

To the Sherriff it didn't seem anything out of the ordinary, and so she finally had to ask, "What is with all the old-timers out here tonight?"

And was relieved to hear that warm weather, cheap rent and quiet brought them out there, and nothing depraved or salacious.

Thank Goodness!

But it was someone's unlucky night.

They moved around the calmly lapping water of the pool.

And a very large someone, she thought as she took in the body sprawled on the wooden deck.

Two puncture wounds to the neck, bruising to the face, especially around the eyes, and bloated skin.

But at least he didn't smell too badly yet.

"Guy's name is Lorenzo Morales." The Sherriff announced as she waved her flashlight over the face, and was surprised to hear Grissom's voice rise up with a boyish spark of excitement.

""Happy" Morales. I saw him fight LeRoi Steele at the Sands a couple of years ago. Took a vicious beating. Never touched the mat once."

Sometimes he was such a big kid. And he picked some strange people to be his heroes if the guy at her feet was anything to go by.

"Well, he's definitely down for the count." She threw out keeping her attention on the body, unable to hold back the twitch of sarcasm which worked its way free.

Clearing his throat, rocking on his heels, the Sherriff began an awkward spiel about the upstanding citizens who owned the establishment which, although she usually remained unbiased, rang uncomfortably in the night air.

Something wasn't right with this; she let her mind ponder that thought.

Until the faint clip of heels lifted her gaze, and beside her Grissom's too.

A young employee of the Sugar Cane was teetering her way towards them, wearing little more than lace and gauzes, held together by bows.

Instinctively she stood a little taller, and she didn't mean to do it, but her eyes darted to Gil's. Watching to see if he was admiring the enviably flat plain of the girl's stomach, her cup size, her tanned skin.

It was human nature; she couldn't deny herself the pang.

After all boys will be boys.

But her self-consciousness was placated rather quickly by the look of bemusement written all over his face. An expression which showed he was clearly only half-listening to the words the Sherriff was still saying, and her gaze followed his to the service weapon dangling precariously from the near naked girls hand.

Oh.

So that was what was going on here.

No wonder the good Sherriff wanted no outsiders causing trouble here.

Just great.

And hilarious to see the young woman reach out and tap the Sherriff on the shoulder like an impertinent child.

"Ned, you left this in my room again."

And watch Gil's jaw drop.

She bit down the urge to chuckle, knowing her laugh was too loud and too dirty to be appropriate in any work situation.

No wonder the good Sherriff was trying to dig himself a hole, chances were he was already here when the crime took place. Talk about compromising the evidence.

She somehow found the willpower to keep her amusement down to a single raised brow, even when the Sherriff received a quick peck to his cheek, and took the time to thank Aimee not only by name, but with the grace of a gentleman.

As her own man's face contorted with more than bemusement now, she knew that his interest in the Sherriff's account of the genuine upstanding brothel owners was now shone on by a different shade of light. This one most likely neon.

Awkward.

The Sherriff turned back to them, began to speak, and then thought better of it.

Smiled briefly at them both, nodded and saying nothing further left.

Wise man.

As the Sherriff retreated, Gil's head swept back around and their eyes met.

The moment lost on neither of them.

The gleam in his eyes set off her grin.

The thrill of remembered heat sparkling between them for just a moment, sweet enough for her stomach to tighten deliciously.

Those in glass houses and all.

Sherriff caught with his pants down on duty, might look like good investigation on their field report, but they were most certainly in no position to pass judgement right now.

A hilarious situation she would never have thought she would find herself in.

If they had still been trapped back in the old cyclical unresolved love conundrum, tonight would have been torturous and probably have ended in an argument.

But these days they had other more pleasurable ways of relieving their tensions.

Her heart fluttered happily.

She loved working with him when he was in this kind of mood. It was like they had one mind.

She could only imagine what he was going to say when they were alone together again.

They had most certainly broken not only official rules but quite a few of their own self imposed ones this evening too.

But moment over it was time to work again. He was getting to his knees beside the body to examine the deceased more closely.

Talking shop again, indicating bruising, questioning if puncture wounds and contusions, and cockily reminding her that the victim was a boxer, perhaps aware that her concentration had certainly been wandering during the examination of the crime scene so far!

She pursed her lips, and avoiding comment headed over to the pool to peer over the edge.

Bending to her own knees.

Dipping her fingertips into the water, noticing the heat rising off the rippling waves.

"Feels like bathwater. It's got to be 90 degrees. There's no way we're going to get an accurate TOD." She said, turning back towards him.

And that was when she noticed it.

It was a small thing, only highlighted by the glare coming off the Sherriff's car headlamps.

She squinted, but wasn't sure and he was still speaking.

"Places like this always keep their pools warm. Encourages the girls to swim topless. It's good for business."

That one got her brow again.

Indignantly raised in challenge.

Mainly to keep from thinking about the fact that she could still feel the ghost of his hands under her jacket on her own bare skin, and fact that his attention momentarily dipped to breast level before he recovered it told her he was thinking the very same thing.

"So they tell me."

He stuttered out, reading her mind again.

She gave him a fake frown, trying her very best to be pained by his knowledge of this, but honestly all she could think about had been the two of them in their bath tub, with water that warm, as his fingers...

Damn!

She was doing it again.

She stood quickly, shaking the droplets of pool water from her fingers, moving closer to him, gliding her flashlight rapidly over his back.

Oh yeah, she had her conformation now.

And it was definitely her doing, she had to be careful not to lean right over to look.

But there it was.

Dark against the stark white lettering of CSI, emblazoned across his broad back, a long scrape was missing, appropriately right down the centre of the letter S.

S for Sara, S for sex...

And with a gasp of amusement she realised just where she would find the missing fabric paint.

Right under one of the fingernails of her right hand!

If she thought waiting for his comments on this evening's case would be torture, just wait until he notices this.

Her eyes fluttered closed momentarily, but all she felt was a small measure of pride at leaving behind evidence.

An encounter like the one they had shared tonight deserved to be remembered.

And damn well if she wouldn't every case that happened on a cold night from now onwards when his jacketed back came into view!

* * *

The hours rolled on slowly, the chill burning off the air as the sun made it's like clockwork appearance. Grissom drifted away to interview the owners and Nick took his place, helping her to sift through the detritus of the pool, sharing her revulsion.

To say she had been keen to get home several hours before felt like an understatement when Nick said the words "Well, it sounds like we need to play ... "Find the Bullet."" And managed to extend her shift still further.

They took a break, stowing her now massively redundant jacket in the SUV and drawing her sunglasses out of the glove compartment instead.

Gil found them there for a quick debriefing, catching them up on his interviews and those that Greg and Brass had been attempting, before he asked her to help him search Morales lodgings. Leaving Nick and his rather you than me look behind her as Gil pulled on his trusty and somewhat ridiculous straw hat, they set off together, walking through the main house and then back outside across the dusty ground.

She noticed the two women approaching, glad that her sunglasses hid her face as they appraised her beloved's headgear.

Blissfully oblivious he continued to speak his exasperated thoughts, "Twenty-five people here last night, and nobody sees anything."

"Nice hat, honey."

She again bit back her smirk as he let his attention follow the girls for a moment, but he made no reply and continued onwards.

His nonplussed response niggling thoughts in the back of her brain. Itchy thoughts that refused to leave her alone and had been building as she and Nick had worked. His comments about the pool, his calm almost lacking reactions, her awareness of so many years he had supposedly been alone before she and he had... it all made her wonder how hard she would kick herself for asking if she had her curiosity fulfilled.

"So you've been to a place like this before?"

The words were out, sounding almost normal, but her muscles felt tighter.

"I worked a murder-suicide at the Naughty Kitty once."

His response was immediate, seemingly unfiltered, totally not the answer to the question she was asking him.

"No, no, come on. You know what I mean."

She had to do it; she had to push him into answering more directly. Ribbing him like she was just one of the guys, the teasing tone filling her voice with an unfelt ease. God help them all.

Desperate to sound like she didn't really care about the answer. Yet, just as desperate not to let this chance pass. Bravery founded in the night they had just spent together and the fact that it was, as his current partner, a medical necessity to find out, as panic stricken as the thought made her.

"As a customer? No."

Her heart started again.

Glad of her sunglasses shade her gaze flicked to his bare eyes and saw the truth there

"You never paid for sex?"

God, try not to sound so surprised her thoughts screamed at her, as her brain was still dealing with the rushing sensation of relief.

His eyes tightened then in indignation at her even suggesting it.

"I have not. I find the whole idea very ... bleak."

Her heart gave a little thump. She knew he was a closet romantic, but each new reveal was a tender delight.

"Really? How come?"

She could hear herself speaking, but she just couldn't seem to stop herself. She turned her face away to hide her growing desire to beam infatuatedly at him.

"Sex should provide the opportunity for human connection, but paid sex does the opposite of that."

His words were a touch clinical, but his tone was so sure and personal, maybe aware of their close proximity to others, maybe trying to avoid their being overheard.

He seemed to sway closer as they walked on.

"To me, sex without love is pointless. It makes you sad."

Boom.

Her stomach was somersaulting.

The adoring look that bewitched his face every time he slid inside her and dragged her close flickered across his current calm face for a moment.

And instilled her brimful with courage as her words came tumbling out once more.

"Well, I'm pretty sure I don't make you sad."

She knew it, knew how much he treasured her, but her need was close to bursting. The desire she felt for words that hadn't yet been said, becoming a steady ache. Actions she had plenty of proof of, she knew how he felt, in actual direct words, not so much. And sometimes, damn it, a woman just needed that.

She was already smirking, feeling shy and exposed and giddy with anticipation.

"No. You make me happy."

This was love.

* * *

It was an exaggeration to say that she floated through the rest of the day. Yet her mood was high and her spirit was grinning.

Finding that Morales last fight began in his room, she and Nick traced the blood trail, until they once again crossed paths with Milton and his dearly deceased wife. The old man's sweetness held back her amusement about the not quite so literal shooting of his wife.

Gil's gift, her beneath the pillow collection of poetry, gave her the final icing on the cake as she completed the stanza of Milton's quoted Longfellow poem.

Glowing at the prospect of spreading a little of her joy.

"Keep the Faith, Milton."

The sun had already been low in the sky as she and Nick had pulled in at the Crime Lab. Paperwork had stolen another hour of her precious sleep and it seemed the dreaded piles of what was once a forest had stolen Gil as well.

She had eventually left him behind, looking at her all forlorn and sulky, with longing eyes from behind an ever-mounting stack of essential paperwork.

Normally, as they usually worked a good few hours over their allotted shift, he could, more often than not, be convinced with a few slow smiles and flirty glances into leaving it all and sneaking home with her.

But yesterday Ecklie had come cracking his whip about Graveyard being behind on all of their documented reports.

She had just happened to be passing by Gil's office at the wrong time and been witness Ecklie's latest tantrum. Seeing him standing all steel rod spine and sneering clipped speech as he barked down at the seated Gil had riled her to the point that she had been forced to control herself, and to take a step back before she had stormed over herself to intervene.

How dare he talk to anyone like that? No one deserved to be spoken to the way Ecklie had been known on occasion to address each and every member of the Graveyard Team.

It was a cross between petulant child who knows you don't like him despite your efforts to pretend you do, and an awkward teenager who just wants things to go his way, even when he is in the wrong.

His manner reduced him from tall, lean man of importance, to snivelling pathetic little incompetent and left thoughts of respect flying in the wind.

How he had ever managed to convince anyone that he was management material, or someone with good people and communication skills was beyond her.

And the final nail in his coffin where she was concerned, not that she needed any more ammunition, was the fact that he tended to spit when he spoke, which made shudders of revulsion wrack her spine.

Weasel, stealing her precious time with Gil.

So Gil was stuck on signing duty. Playing catch up, but luckily all of his CSI's with the occasional exception of good ol'Greggo were punctual about handing in their reports. So they were all typed and ordered and neatly and patiently waiting in Grissom's bright red inbox for his awkward signature scrawl.

The bright red inbox had been Catherine's idea, to make sure that he didn't loose it, or pretend to loose it, under all the other piles on his desk.

So in that little shelf, in chronological order lay all the reports in question. All of them waiting for his final okay.

So hopefully he shouldn't be long, even though he hadn't accepted her offer of help, shaking his head as he told her it wasn't fair for her, or any of the others to be penalised because he was behind.

But really she was penalised. Even if it was going through paperwork, she would still have been spending time with him.

But he would hear none of it.

He had shuffled her out of his office, making her promise go home and relax and he would be along later.

And so she had left him, heading home, feeling only slightly guilty about the daydreams of long hot shower and a hunger for toast and a hot mug of tea, that were dancing in her head.

She had stopped off to pick up the dog from the sitters.

A new experience.

Usually she was the one with the duty of dropping him off.

Leaving him behind with timid and fearful eyes, looking not unlike Gil when she had left him just a few minutes ago.

She was the bad owner, the one who left him there, to worry and wonder if anyone was coming back for him.

For a moment she had to question how he would react when he saw it was her to collect him and not Gil. She couldn't help the small twinge in her heart, a small sliver of worry that the beast would be disappointed to see just her there.

Damn that dog. He loved Grissom.

The master of the house, and the beast seemed to care not that she was the one who fed him, who bathed him and all the patience that endeavour required and the one with whom he got his exercise as he jogged along with her on her late afternoon runs.

Gil was his favourite, the one who received all the doggy excitement.

But she need not have worried.

After just one glance, one flare of recognition, and a huge brown and white blur she had been bounced upon by drool and muscle and doggy breath.

Rocking back on her heels, unable to quell the cry and giddy laughter, which escaped her.

Unable to prevent the liquid that welled unbidden in her eyes.

He was so excited to see her and she couldn't help but love it.

Love the fact that she was suddenly swept by the powerful pleasure of being wanted.

Of someone else being overjoyed to see her. Two in one day. Some kind of record.

And she couldn't help but wonder if this was why Gil liked to be the one to pick him up.

Was this why he usually waved away her offers to do it?

And how it was that this sweet four legged creature could be so open about how he felt?

She was the one who was supposed to be so much more emotionally evolved, and yet she struggled desperately to express how she felt clearly even to the man she loved.

And he was no better.

Each affection and message tangled up in a web of fancy words, romantic allusions and metaphors.

She had recently begun to hate metaphors, she used to be so direct, curt and to the point, but over time she had been forced to learn how to be more subtle, as direct clearly scared the hell out of Gil.

Maybe they could both learn a little something from this exuberant creature, she thought, as she begged and coaxed the beast into the back of the SUV, and drove home with his hot doggy breath steaming against her ear and neck over the backseat.

Once home, she opened the front door and he rushed past her into the house, heading straight over to his basket. Seeming to be checking nothing had gone in his absence.

Longing for some semblance of security, just like she did.

She stood at the counter, waiting for her toast to crisp, pouring boiling water into her mug of tea.

Once satisfied all is as it should be she heard his claws as he made his way back over to her, and looking up at his approach she saw his dopey cute lumber, and noted with a sweet smile the raggedy, very loved, snoopy dog in his mouth.

Looked like someone was edging this way for some of her toast, what a surprise!

But she already knew he would be slipped some on the sly, she never could resist those big eyes.

He nudged her leg with his nose, encouraging her to scratch behind his ears and then he purposely and reverently dumped his snoopy at her feet in a soggy thump, before he was off again, most likely searching for Gil in a scatter of claws.

She smiled, stooping to pick up the tattered and moist bear.

A gift for her for remembering him?

Crossing the room to the corner of the kitchen, sipping her tea, she returned the toy carefully to the dog's basket before climbing the stairs with thoughts of a nice hot shower in her head.

She set the water going, sliding out of her clothes, sending them tumbling into a heap, and then sweeping them into a hamper. A blissful sigh escaping as she first stepped under the heavy spray. Feeling the soothing water thunder against her shoulders and wash away the sand and the dirt that had been blown into her hair.

But she was also washing away Gil's touch and transfer. His epithelial's and kisses.

Drowned in soap and bubbles and heat.

Ah well, there would be plenty of time for cross-contamination in the future.

Eyes closed she swayed under the deluge as her thoughts drifted through memories of sandstorms and caresses and deep thrusting groans that echoed back at her from the tiled bathroom walls. Enticing that rush of heat to return, even hotter than the cascading water and she found herself blushing at her actions even now!

Pleasured, and more than a little proud of their adventures.

She smiled slyly as she slathered on more silky soap.

Enjoying the sleek feel of her own skin.

Knowing that he couldn't be washed from the most important place – her heart.

'_No, you make me happy'_

She grinned helplessly, before she titled her head back fully and let the water cascade in rivulets over her face.

Out of the shower, hair blown waterless by the lulling dryer, she mounted the bed.

She drew out her little book, she would just read for a little while, just until Gil returned.

But the sheets were cool, soft and inviting, and sleep was easy coming.

And only stirred by the warmth of Gil sliding in beside her.

Curling himself around her and kissing her bare shoulder.

And scooping up her book and beginning to read.

Soft words that caressed her skin, stirred her hair.

The words of devotion from her poetry book.

The things his heart wanted to say to hers.

Spoken aloud.

This was home.


End file.
